Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

Day hath put on his jacket, and around
His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.

There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the read more

There are three wicks you know to the lamp of a man's life:
brain, blood, and breath. Press the brain a little, its light
goes out, followed by both the others. Stop the heart a minute,
and out go all three of the wicks. Choke the air out of the
lungs, and presently the fluid ceases to supply the other centres
of flame, and all is soon stagnation, cold, and darkness.

I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
read more

I know it is a sin
For me to sit and grin
At him here;
But the old three-cornered hat
And the breeches and all that
Are so queer.

I never dare to write
As funny as I can.

I never dare to write
As funny as I can.

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy read more

Grave is the Master's look; his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy lies the heads of all that rule,
His worst of all whose kingdom is a school.
Supreme he sits; before the awful frown
That binds his brows the boldest eye goes down;
Not more submissive Israel heard and saw
At Sinai's foot the Giver of the Law.